


how to fix your heart

by hisgirltuesday (burntcookiies)



Category: Maximum Ride - James Patterson
Genre: F/M, For closure, Hurt/Comfort, Island - Freeform, Post Nevermore, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burntcookiies/pseuds/hisgirltuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, you're going to find something beautiful. And then you're going to lose it — Fang's attempt at redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how to fix your heart

**Author's Note:**

> Fang POV

* * *

.

don't make me wish on

stars, candles, or planes

they're not gonna save me

anyway

.

::::: how to fix your heart :::::

.

* * *

_once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a girl_

_then he lost her_

* * *

.

.

He should be happy. Grateful, even.

He was alive in a half-destroyed world, kicking back and soaking up rays with a chilled Sprite in his hand—all the while stuck on an artificial island that went by the name of Paradise. It's been a little over a week since they'd settled here, and the weather was always warm and sunny.

To think of it, it's been a while since he's seen and felt rain.

He'd like to say that he's had enough of water since his near death experience with the tsunami, but he still showers without a care and swims in pools with waterfalls roaring in the background, soaking him with spray.

Life was too calm, too peaceful, and most of all, too perfect. He's not used to this, not used to boring morning routines and daily schedules; he sardonically thinks of when his younger self would try and persuade Max to flee to an island and drink from coconuts all day.

Guess it came true, after all, but not in the way he'd imagined it. But that was his life-nothing ever went the way he wanted things to flow.

The fleeting image of a girl with blonde hair and chocolate eyes crosses his mind, but it dissolves into murky darkness the second he blinks.

He should be used to it.

.

.

The sun is setting, and he escapes back into his treehouse after dinner. Everybody was still milling around in the dining pavilion in the forest clearing, or running around down at the beach socializing.

His hammock is nice and comfy and he turns his head slightly to the left to avoid hazy red rays cast by the vibrant sunset. He could see the mass of kids huddled down at the beach, running around crashing waves. Occasionally the wind would carry over joyous shouts and bouts of laughter.

He should be happy too. Happy with what he had now, happy with whatever the future brought.

It should be easy for him to forget and move on from the past, leave all his faults and misdeeds back in the ruins of North America. It would be the most logical thing to do, throwing away whatever burdens he had into the new sea, wiped clean after the tsunami and begin anew.

Ten minutes later and the sun vanishes below the horizon line. He reluctantly slides off the hammock and steps back into his room.

A knock sounds at his door just as he sits down on his wicker chair, feet propped up on his glass coffee table.

"Come in," he calls out, not wanting to get up. It was unlocked anyway; his treehouse wasn't exactly a popular place for people to randomly barge in, unlike Nudge's.

It opens and Iggy casually strolls in, heading straight for the opposite chair across for him, navigating towards it with excellent precision. Iggy plops down and crosses his legs, unseeing blue gaze staring two inches off from his face. He doesn't say anything because he still hasn't gotten used to the way those sightless icy orbs unnerved him, read him like how chocolate brown ones used to.

"So, Mr. Emo Boy. Finished brooding yet? 'Cause you know, that organized bonding game Dr. Martinez planned is going to start in like, fifteen or so minutes."

"So you decided to grace me with your company until then?"

A wry grin crosses Iggy's face. "You should feel honored. I don't normally offer my company to just anybody."

He pauses and lifts his head up to the ceiling, fingers tapping the armrest of the chair, suddenly deep in thought.

"Pleasantries aside, I'm worried about you, Fang. Before you say anything about how I'm wrong and all because I'm blind and I have a normally aloof personality, I'm not stupid. What really happened between you and Max?"

Iggy tilts his head, expecting an answer, milky gaze an inch off from his dark ones. It should be easy to spin up a tale woven with lies, easy to tell Iggy to fuck off and deny anything and everything. But he swallows and knows that he can't hide it anymore.

"She said she needed space," he says with some difficulty, but he's relieved that his voice doesn't waver.

Iggy cocks an eyebrow and shoots him a unimpressed look. "I knew you were a man of few words, but please elaborate?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He was never good at explaining things, especially his feelings, but the weight of the burden was begging to be dropped.

"After the tsunami hit," he begins uncertainly, "Max told me that she needed time to think and sort everything out. She said that she needed space and to not...be with her...for like a week. And after everything I've done...I knew that she deserved that much...after..."

He was always crap at explaining, and his speech just solidified that fact. But Iggy, bless his sometimes understanding soul, doesn't comment and looks pointedly at him to continue in hopes of redeeming himself.

"So I haven't had a decent conversation with her so far; small talk here and there doesn't count. And...I feel like I'm losing her."

Iggy is silent, blue gaze still resting on that spot that was an inch away from his face. He's quiet too, awaiting an answer that wants to hear but wants to shy away from at the same time. The air is thick and palpable and he has the urge to open all his windows to let cool relief in.

"Okay Fang...first off, you can stop wanting to shove me out of your room; the feeling is practically radiating from you. And second, you know that we all forgive you right? Even Max."

The thing was, he knew that. Knew from the bottom of his heart that he was forgiven, but people never forget and finding redemption was never the simplest thing to achieve. Sometimes when he'd wake up in the middle of the night and had to lie there until sleep claimed him again, he'd thought that he was past atonement.

She'd welcomed him back, but he just knew that it'll take more than a bone-breaking hug and a make out session in a hammock to fix anything.

Iggy takes his silence in and stands up, stretching his legs. "You have an eternity to do something. Anything. But I should go help set up the activity now, so see you later, Fang. Maybe you can have a long talk with her later." He begins to stride towards the door.

"Wait," Fang calls out, and Iggy's hand stills on the doorknob with the door half open. The strawberry blond turns around to face him, unseeing eyes directly boring into his dark ones. It pierces through his soul and he can't take anything back now.

"Someone told me that one day, I was going to find something beautiful and lose it."

Something indiscernible flashes in those milky blues.

"Did you at least ask if you were going to find it again?"

He breaks the gaze even though it's pointless to.

"No."

.

.

He stays seated for about five minutes, mulling over what had transpired. When his mind finally revolts against him for overthinking the entire situation, he sighs and gets up, deciding it's high time to join the others.

It's a short walk down to the large, rectangular gazebo where gatherings were normally held. It's the closest building near the beach and he spots kids making their way up the steps and taking a seat on the wooden floors, hazy orange lantern light illuminating tired but exuberant smiles.

He spots Max and Ella quietly talking in the corner with the latter making exaggerated circular gestures. Max mumbles something, looks up and meets his gaze, and quickly turns back to her sister.

Dylan lingers away from everyone else and Fang ignores him, looking around for Iggy.

"Fang! Could you help me stack the chairs?"

He turns and sees Gazzy stacking plastic lawn chairs in the opposite corner and obliges.

_one day, you're going to find something beautiful. and then you're going to lose it._

He inwardly scowls. Sure, the talk with Iggy had certainly made it easier to breathe, but no matter how hard he tried to not dwell on it, that one particular memory came back to haunt him.

It was a year before Jeb decided to off himself and mysteriously disappear and he was thirteen. Jeb had taken them to an bustling autumn festival in some city, and he'd had free roam with the Flock for a day. There were no worries about Erasers or Whitecoats, only anxiety about having enough money to buy tickets.

Anyway, he'd gotten separated from the Flock when a large group of people had rushed by for whatever reason and he'd been swept away with them. When he'd finally got his bearings together he was in front of a red tent with something vaguely like smoke billowing out at ground level.

Being the ever-curious pre-teen, he'd walked inside and saw the most peculiar lady in colorful robes seated behind a large covered table.

It's then that he sees 'Edna's Fortune' written on a sign, right next to a crystal ball.

_come, child. let me read your fortune._

He'd vehemently shaken his head, but regardless, his feet still lead him to the small velvet stool.

_one day, you're going to find something beautiful and warm._

He listens with the intention of dismissing whatever he heard later.

_and then you're going to lose it._

He'd bolted up, and told her that she didn't know anything about his life. It had taken him ten minutes to find the rest of the Flock at the ticket booth, where Jeb had said to meet up if somebody got lost.

_where were you, Fang?_

He'd spun a tale about how some parent had dragged him off, mistaking him as her son; no desire to share about the loony fortune teller.

Looking back, he'd wanted to strangle her. But now, he wished that he'd at least asked her if he was going to find it again.

"Fang? Earth to Fang? The game's starting." Gazzy breaks his train of thought and drags him back to reality. "Everyone's staring at us."

Gazzy tugs at his arm and leads him to empty spots beside Iggy. Everyone was sitting in a circle, and much to his chagrin, he was right across from Max. The light from the lanterns flicker across her face, turning her hair a burnt copper color, eyes to glittering chocolate orbs.

She doesn't meet his gaze.

Ella claps her hands and grins. "Alright. Since everyone's here, we're going to start. I know everyone wants to play Bang again, but I think we should learn more about each other. So now, we're going to share our happiest memory."

There are a few grumbles, but Ella continues nonetheless. "If you don't really have a happy memory, you can express what you're thankful for and why. I'll start."

He already knows that it was probably the day she found out that Max was her sister, and he is awarded with a story that he's already lived.

"...and that's my happiest memory."

Ella smiles and pointedly looks at Max, signaling her to go next. She looks vaguely uncomfortable but clears her throat when a few looks are thrown her way.

"So my happiest memory would be..."

He knows that it was probably when they'd rescued Angel, or the good early days when they were with Jeb, but she spins a tale about escaping the School

He narrows his eyes as she retells the relief when Jeb rescued them, but he tunes out in a minute.

What an utter load of bullshit.

He twists his head to sneak a glance at Angel but the blond girl just sits serenely, leaning into Nudge with half-lidded blue eyes. Now, if Angel wasn't half-asleep, he's sure that she'll agree with him.

He looks back at Max and he's surprised that she's looking at him as she wraps up her story, something like a challenge in those eyes.

The activity continues, but honestly, he just wants out now. He doesn't pay attention until Iggy recounts his joy at making his first bomb and he suddenly remembers that he had to say something next.

"...so yeah. That pretty sums up my happiest memory."

Crap. He's out of time and he decides to go with his festival story, leaving out the fortune teller part. He looks at Max the whole entire time, and she stares back defiantly, glittering chocolate eyes meeting his.

_two can play at that game_

"It felt so nice, not worrying about dying or running that day."

Someone quietly scoffs and he bets his wings that it's Dylan. He reminds himself that the Ken doll reincarnate was a six-month-old in a teen's body and wouldn't know any better, and continues without missing a beat.

She never breaks his gaze when he ends his story and Gazzy starts his. When the game is finally over, everyone sighs and stretches, bidding each other good night and leave in groups, commenting on each other's memories.

They're among the last ones to leave and he corners her under a particularly bright lantern. Her hair turns into a beautiful golden and dancing shadows are cast across her face; he's so close that he can see the pale freckles across the bridge of her nose.

And suddenly, he's overwhelmed with the feeling to just hold and kiss her like old times, but instead, he crosses his arms.

"You're a liar."

She copies his motion and throws him a dry smile.

"That makes two of us, Fang."

.

.

He wakes up in the middle of the night for the third time, moonlight hitting him right in the face from the open window. He groans and rolls over to his side, wishing that he could just get a good night's sleep in return for all his crappy mornings.

It was times like these where he just wishes that he could go back in time and never leave the Flock, never write the godamned letter with his heart in it, and wished he'd murdered Dylan and buried him in a shallow grave in Africa.

_"You know that we all forgive you right? Even Max."_

That didn't exactly worry him, but he'd just wished that they would know how his heart had almost broken just like Max's that night, and how his desire to just make a U-turn was just as strong as her wish to chase after him and drag him back.

_I love you_

Those cursed three words, whispered in caressing murmurs and written in blood on that letter.

He just wanted her to know that he'd suffered just like her and wanted nothing more than to heal the rift between them.

And maybe fix both of their hearts in the process.

.

.

He sits on the rocky part of the shoreline after breakfast, enjoying the early morning sea breeze. It's always been his favorite spot, where waves could crash but never reach him with their spray. The horizon line is faint and blurry, but he wonders if he could fly out there and see what had happened to the rest of civilization.

He hears the soft pad of footsteps on the rocks, and Max sits down next to him, decked out in a plain white shirt and shorts.

"Hey," he says as a greeting.

"Hey yourself," is the lighthearted reply.

He sits there for a minute, trying not to notice how she smelled like apple shampoo and how the breeze whipped her hair back. The urge to lean over and tuck flyaway strands behind her ears is prominent but he combs back his hair instead.

"This place is too perfect," she says in his silence. "I feel so artificial here; I never thought that I would miss our old life."

_our_

"I know. It feels like we're trapped in a snow globe, only that it's paradise in a globe," he murmurs. "Even the weather's perfect."

She chuckles, and he tries his best not to stare at her for too long. "I know. I'm not the type to sit back on a beach anyway."

He can't keep the laugh from escaping and she cracks a grin.

"Do you ever wish that we could fly out there to see the rest of the world?"

She tilts her head. "Many times. I'd dreamed of it once, just to prove that we're real and alive. Maybe I'll do it when the supposed toxin is gone."

"Do you feel bad that we're alive and vaguely happy, while the rest of the world is dying?"

She takes longer to answer this question. "I feel bad that I'm not feeling sad. I mean, after everything we've been through, I think we deserve this."

"So you feel guilty that you're not feeling guilty," he sums up.

She brushes her hair back. "Pretty much."

"Don't worry about it. We survived, and that's the important thing."

He's met with a mock-awed look. "Never thought you'd be the reassuring type."

"Well, you learn something new every day."

She lightly punches his shoulders and stands up, brushing off her shorts. "I should help my mom out in the labs now. We're upgrading our water purification system."

"See you later, then." He tries to hide the disappointment in his voice.

He watches her go but she suddenly turns around and glances at the sunny blue sky.

"I wish it would rain."

She's gone before he comes to his senses, before he has the chance to say that he does too.

.

.

He's walking back to his treehouse when he spies Dylan leaning against a palm tree. Paying no heed, he walks past but a lazy drawl with an undertone stops him.

"She's not yours."

_yet_

Normally, he would have risen to the bait but now, there's nothing to fight for because they both know that the war was won, knew who was the victor.

He throws the blonde boy a mocking smile.

"So? She's not yours, either."

.

.

His afternoon is spent supervising the kids from fatally injuring themselves. Gazzy had challenged everybody to dive from the highest waterfall, and he can't fathom why he'd come up with the idea.

"No wings, guys!"

The midday sun is burning his skin and he edges closer to the shade. The pool is cool and inviting but he doesn't want to be trampled by the other kids.

"You should try."

He doesn't need to turn around to know that it's Max.

"What about you?"

Her eyes flicker to where Nudge and two other girls wait next in line. The waterfall certainly is high, and the white spray causes foam to bubble up.

"I'm tired."

He turns to her with a raised brow. "Yes, because purifying water is tiring."

She narrows her eyes. "Fine. We'll both go, then."

They head towards the end of the line.

"You realize we're not in appropriate clothing, right?"

She shoots him an incredulous look. "Of all the things to comment on, it's our clothing."

He doesn't get to reply as laughter erupt from the pool.

"Your face was priceless Nudge!"

He turns back to Max, who was watching Nudge and the girls intently. And then it clicks.

"You're scared."

She almost looks murderous with her expression. "What? No-"

"I'm not talking about waterfall diving," he says in a low voice. "But in context, I guess you kinda are-you're not used to not having the safety of your wings to break your fall."

_but I'm talking about a different kind of fall_

He can see the visible emotions in her eyes and wants to reach out and bridge the gap.

"You want to fall and be caught at the same time. After all the risks you've taken, you want to be safe this time."

This time, he places his hand on her shoulder and takes a step closer.

"You want someone to be there. With you. In the same moment."

She breaks his gaze.

"Max! Fang! It's your turn!"

They fly up and he feels her voluntarily take his hand as they fold in their wings.

"Okay."

And it doesn't feel a thing like falling.

.

.

He's lounging on his bed when his door opens with an audible click.

"Iggy-"

"As much as I'd like to be a blind pyro, life was not in my favor."

"Max."

She peers around his cluttered room throws him something in a plastic ziplock bag.

"See you at dinner, Fang."

She leaves and he gingerly picks the bag up. It's a slightly yellowed and crumpled piece of paper, haphazardly folded into fours. Recognition hits him full force and he opens the bag and unfolds the paper.

His spiky handwriting greets him, and there's visible tear stains on it. But there's red pen markings over it; Max had circled all the 'love's' in the letter and down, at the very bottom, there's an underlined  _in twenty years, I'll meet you on top of the cliff...I'll be waiting for you._

There's also something written next to his name in loopy handwriting.

_love in twenty years? some things can't be measured in time, you know._

.

.

"Why'd you give my letter back to me?"

"Because I don't need it anymore."

A pause.

"You know, we all need time to find things that we've lost."

She walks away before he has a chance to say that being cryptic was his job, not hers.

.

.

He has a restful sleep that night, and in the morning, he's greeted with cloudy skies.

He blinks the sleep out of his eyes as he takes it in. It seemed to surreal to not have sunny skies and he changes into day clothes and rushes out into the balcony.

It was windy, too.

The dining pavilion is in a buzz when he eats breakfast, conversations on the weather here and there.

"What if it rains?" Angel asks, and that simple question raises a storm of comments.

"I don't want it to rain."

"Yeah, I wanna swim again!"

"I think it'll be nice to have a change in weather."

He finishes his breakfast and excuses himself under the guise of wanting to use the restrooms. Instead, he takes the familiar path down to the rocky shoreline.

.

.

"Thought I'd find you here."

She sits down next to him and they watch the darkening sky.

"So Paradise has flaws. Can you believe it?"

He cracks a smile. "It's been a while since I've seen and felt rain."

"I know. It brings back memories," she says. "I still remember how Nudge and Angel hated thunderstorms."

The gap is still there, but it's closing ever so slightly.

"Yeah, and we'd make hot chocolate and camp out in the living room."

They sit in silence a couple of minutes, until they hear the telltale rumble of thunder. The waves grow turbulent, and they reluctantly head to higher ground.

He follows her to the gazebo and they sit side-by-side in plastic lawn chairs.

"Looks like your wish came true, after all," he says as rain begins to fall.

_I wish it would rain_

"Yeah, she answers absentmindedly, "I guess it did."

Both of their arms rest on the armrests and he hesitantly places his on hers, intertwining their fingers.

Max turns to him, a half-smile on her face.

"It didn't feel a thing like falling, you know."

He knows that she's not taking about diving into crystal blues with their wings tucked in.

_you want to fall and be caught. you want someone to be there. with you. in the same moment_

He also gets the feeling that she knows more than she's letting on. Max squeezes his hand and leans back, still looking at him.

"So, did you ever find the something that you lost?"

"Yes," he says levelly, gaze never breaking from hers. "I found it."

* * *

.

.

.

how to fix your heart

.

FIN

.

all that glitters

like diamonds in the sky

oh, how I'd wish

it were all gold

.

.

.

* * *

 


End file.
